Brothers in Arms
by CaroH
Summary: Callen and the team have a new challenge which hits very close to home.
1. Chapter 1

Welcome to my new story, inspired by the fact that I really didn't like Red team or the unbelievable interaction between Callen and Paris. Callen-centric as usual but with the full involvement of the rest of the team.

**Brothers in Arms**

**Chapter One**

Callen had been on edge all day. He'd woken up feeling unsettled and that feeling had persisted. When Sam questioned him he'd shrugged and answered truthfully that he had no idea what was wrong. They'd been stuck in the car for hours on a stake-out that had yielded a minor member of a street gang suspected of selling stolen military hardware. The young man, no older than eighteen and scared shitless, was at the boat shed with Kensi and Deeks. Callen didn't think it would take him long to crack.

He persuaded Sam to leave early to attend his daughter's end of term recital. Although Sam tried to guilt him into going as well he'd held fast to his refusal. By the time he'd finished writing up his report the Mission was quiet and he was no closer to identifying the source of his unease. He got up to pour a cup of coffee and considered the deserted office. What the hell was wrong with him? His restless gaze finally settled on Hetty's desk and he frowned. The pieces of the puzzle finally fell into place. He hadn't seen or heard from her since the previous afternoon. He set the cup down jarringly, coffee spilling over the edge to pool on the countertop.

Callen took the stairs two at a time in his haste to reach the Ops Center. When the door slid open he saw Nell standing by the smart table. She looked up almost guiltily when he entered.

"Hey, Callen. I thought everyone had gone home."

"What're you doing, Nell?"

She chewed at her lower lip for a moment before answering. "Tracking Hetty."

"Where is she?"

"You remember the bar where you met up with her when we were working the Iranian scam? She's been there since she got back from Washington earlier this evening."

That information raised far more questions than it answered. "Why was she in Washington?"

"I don't know. She got a call yesterday and just left."

"Don't tell me you don't know who the call was from." Callen folded his arms and stared Nell down. "And how do you know she was in Washington?"

Nell flushed. "Eric and I tracked her credit card activity. She wasn't answering her phone and we were worried."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"We were going to but you know how Hetty gets if she thinks people are prying into her personal business."

"Something's wrong, Nell. You know it as well as I do. Hetty only disappears when something bad's going down and she wants to keep us out of it."

"What are you going to do?"

"Talk to her. Call me if she leaves the bar."

"Alright. I'm sorry, Callen. I should have said something sooner."

Callen's severe expression softened. Hetty had taken Nell into her confidence on a number of matters while recuperating from the bullet wound inflicted by Alexa Comescu. He was sure that she was being groomed for something more than working as an analyst. Nell had responded by becoming protective of their Operations Manager, keeping secrets from the other members of the team. Callen didn't necessarily like it although he respected the loyalty.

"There's nothing we could have done while she was in Washington. She was probably called to a meeting with the Director. I'll call you later once I know she's okay."

Nell nodded before returning her attention to the smart table and the unmoving pulsing light from the GPS on Hetty's phone.

NCISLA

The bar was close to the waterfront in an area frequented by a less than desirable clientele. Callen wasn't worried about Hetty because of that. She was perfectly capable of looking after herself and he pitied anyone dumb enough to think otherwise. He was worried about her reasons for straying so far from her usual haunts. They'd chosen this location to meet while he was working to convince Naseem Vaziri that he was a rogue agent. It was the kind of clandestine meeting place that would help with the fiction that he and Hetty were no longer associated with NCIS.

When he opened the door his senses were assaulted by the smell of spilt beer with an undertone of illegal substances. He removed his sunglasses and immediately spotted Hetty sitting at the same table they'd used before. She was facing the door and he thought he saw an unguarded moment of sadness before her expression cleared. He stopped at the bar to buy a glass of beer and a scotch on the rocks.

When he reached the table Hetty pushed her empty glass away and accepted the fresh drink. He drained half of it before setting the glass down and pinning him with her direct stare. "Why are you here, Mr. Callen?"

"I thought you might like some company."

"I see." Hetty drained the glass and waved to attract the barman's attention. "Another," she said.

Callen sipped his beer, watching her. "How much have you had?"

"Not enough."

"Want to talk about it?" He knew from experience that she could hold her liquor and she was far too good at subterfuge to give anything away unless by choice.

"I've always wondered why it is that some agents survive even against overwhelming odds while others…" She broke off and turned away. "I'm sorry, Mr. Callen. It's difficult to know where to start."

"Why don't you tell me about your trip to Washington?" His unease coalesced into gut-wrenching fear. The last time he'd seen Hetty like this was after the deaths of Renko and Hunter.

"Yes. The Director wanted to tell me personally because of my history with Roy."

It took a minute for Callen to process the unexpected reference to Roy Haines, a member of Red team. "Something's happened to him?"

The barman delivered another drink. Hetty toyed with it a minute. "Not just Roy. All of them." When she looked up this time there were unshed tears in her eyes. "There was an explosion. Both trailers were destroyed and everyone in them was…They had no chance to get out."

Callen sat back, stunned. "What caused the explosion?" He couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that an entire team had been wiped out. They'd only worked together on one operation but he'd kept in touch with their leader, Paris Summerskill. Despite Hetty's efforts to throw them together they'd not progressed beyond mutual admiration and mild flirting. Contact had been sporadic and friendly with no expectation of anything more.

"The cause has not yet been determined." Her voice was steady; the moment of weakness was over.

"Accidental or deliberate?" Callen pressed.

"Either way, it's none of our concern."

"I don't buy that. If this was murder someone has to investigate. Why not us? We're one of the best teams you've got."

That brought a faint smile to Hetty's face. "That's not very modest of you."

"It's the truth. Where did it happen?"

"I can't tell you that. And, before you ask, I can't tell you what they were working on."

"Who can?"

"It's out of our jurisdiction."

"That's never stopped us before. Do you really expect me to believe that you'll stay out of it if this is proved to be something other than an accident?"

Hetty's expression was grim. "Oh no, Mr. Callen. If they were murdered you can rest assured that I'll find a way to make it our business."

Tbc

Caroline

August 2013


	2. Chapter 2

**Brothers in Arms**

**Chapter Two**

Paris Summerskill.

Even with his high level of security clearance Callen couldn't access much more than her name. He knew a little of her history although she'd been almost as secretive as he was. Senior Agent in Charge of Red team. Deceased. He stared at the picture in her file. It didn't do her justice, showing none of her restless energy and courage.

Roy Haines was even more of an enigma. Special Agent turned Intelligence Analyst. Why? He and Hetty clearly had a history. Was he one of her orphans? A basic background check ruled that out. His father was an accountant; his mother a teacher. Both had lived well into their seventies. He had a brother and a sister, both still alive. What had happened between him and Paris? Callen hoped they had resolved it before they died.

Danny Gallagher had been injured during the early stages of their joint operation. Callen hadn't had time to form any lasting impressions. He'd returned to full operational status three weeks ago.

Dave Flynn had been a Special Agent with a background in forensics. Claire Keats – born in Australia, moved to America at fifteen. Dead at twenty-seven.

The final member of the team and the one least suited to field work was Kai Ashe. He was their technical expert. Callen tried to imagine Eric as a member of a mobile team. Nell would cope. He didn't think Eric would last five minutes.

An élite team wiped out in seconds.

Callen closed his laptop before swivelling round to look at Hetty. She was deep in conversation with Assistant Director Granger. The fact that he'd turned up confirmed Callen's suspicions that the deaths had been no accident.

"Morning, G."

Sam strode in exuding good health and enthusiasm. Sometimes he made Callen feel very tired. The fact that he'd stayed up all night trying to figure out what Red team had been working on didn't help either.

"You should have come last night. My baby girl was outstanding."

"Next time," Callen promised.

Nell was next to arrive. She cast a questioning look at him and he shook his head. She knew about Red team but Hetty had forbidden her from conducting any off the book enquiries until they heard more through official sources.

"I'm telling you, Deeks, I swear I saw a flea on Monty."

"My dog does not have fleas," Deeks said indignantly as he followed Kensi into the bullpen.

"Yes, he does. You should take him to one of those dog grooming parlors." Kensi tilted her head and considered her partner. "Maybe you should go as well."

"Monty has too much self-respect to been seen somewhere like that. He isn't a poodle. And, I'll have you know, it costs a lot for me to look like this."

"Really? I thought you'd just forgotten to comb your hair."

Deeks reached up to scratch his scalp. "See what you've done now? You've made me itch."

"Fleas," Kensi responded with a smirk.

Deeks scowled at Sam. "Stop laughing."

"See that's one advantage of not having hair…or a flea-bitten mutt."

"None of you has any respect for Monty's feelings."

"He isn't here Deeks and he's a dog. You can't hurt his feelings." Sam really didn't approve of Monty.

Deeks continued to scratch absent-mindedly. "What's Granger doing here?"

"I'm sure we'll find out soon," Callen replied.

"What's going on, G?"

"What makes you think I know anything?"

Sam narrowed his eyes. "Do you ever give a straight answer?"

"Not usually."

"Do you have any idea how frustrating you are to work with?"

"Yes."

"Give it up, Sam," Deeks advised. "He'll tell us when he's ready."

Granger walked over looking tired and irritable. "Ops," he growled.

Callen held back so that he could walk with Hetty. "Well?"

"The Assistant Director will brief you."

"Not an accident?"

"No."

When they arrived in the operations center Granger glared at them all before handing a flash drive to Eric. "This footage was shot just under two days ago."

The video had clearly been taken from a plane. At first all Callen saw was desert. There was nothing to tell him where it was. Two bright flashes of light were followed by a fireball shooting into the sky. Seconds later the plane zoomed over the site of the explosion. Twisted metal was strewn across a wide area and there was a small crater in the epicenter. He heard Nell draw in a sharp breath.

"The wreckage is all that's left of Red team's trucks," Granger said in a flat voice.

"What about the team?" Kensi asked, her eyes wide and a catch in her voice.

"They were all killed in the explosion."

"You knew!" Sam turned on Callen. "This is what you weren't telling us."

"Mr. Callen was under orders. Agent Summerskill and her colleagues were on a highly classified mission. We have only just received confirmation that it was a bomb."

The video had stopped, filling the screen with a scene of utter devastation. Callen walked slowly forward. There were no bodies that he could see. "Are you sure they were all in there?" he asked.

"Yes. They'd assembled for a briefing with me. We were on a live video feed when it happened."

Callen swung round to stare at the Assistant Director. Granger could be a bastard but to witness the massacre of one of his teams must have left its mark.

"You have something to say, Agent Callen?" Granger asked, making it clear that he wouldn't welcome sympathy or a discussion of his feelings on the subject.

"Since you're telling us this I assume we're getting to investigate."

"Hetty insisted." Granger did not sound happy but then he rarely did.

"Where did it happen?" Sam asked.

"Five miles from Camp Stewart in the Helmand River Valley, Afghanistan."

"What were they working on?"

"A credible threat of a terrorist attack on the camp."

"There are threats all the time," Deeks said. "What made this one special enough to send in a team?"

"The threat is from inside the camp," Hetty said somberly.

Callen reviewed what he knew about Camp Stewart. "It's a joint operation? Army, Navy and Airforce?"

"That's right," Granger said. "It started as an expeditionary base and grew. Now it's a vital link for air and ground logistics and provisions. We can't afford to have it compromised."

"Was the intelligence any more specific?" Sam asked.

"No."

"Did you ever serve there, Sam?" Callen asked, his gaze straying again to the picture on the screen.

"I passed through once but was never stationed there. It's a huge tent city. The only permanent structure is a hospital which does an outstanding job. Without it a lot more people would have died."

"Agents Summerskill and Keats were working at the hospital as their cover. Roy was flown in as a civilian contractor experienced in intelligence analysis." Hetty met Callen's stare for a moment before turning away.

"What did they discover that got them killed?" Kensi asked.

"They'd been on site for just over two weeks and hadn't made any headway with their enquiry." Granger had turned his back on the screen.

"Something blew their cover. What were the rest of the team doing?" Callen asked.

"Monitoring all communication, including covert audio and video surveillance equipment. I'll provide Eric and Nell with everything they'd collected in case we missed something."

"What do we know about the bomb?" Sam asked.

"Not much. We're waiting for a forensic report." Granger turned to Callen, his face as hard as a slab of granite. "Work up a plan and have it on my desk in an hour."

Callen nodded and gestured for his team to follow him. He could see that they were as shocked as he'd been the previous evening. Removing them from the visual reminder of what had happened might help them focus on the future instead of the past. His mind was already churning with ideas, some of which he instantly discarded. Whatever cover they used would have to be very different from Red team's approach.

Once back at their desks he scrutinized each of his colleagues. "We good?" he asked.

"Don't you feel anything?"

"Yeah, Kenz, I do but there's nothing we can do for Paris or the others except find who did this. We've lost friends before and it never gets any easier. We can't afford to let it get to us though…not while we still have a job to do."

"That sounds kinda cold." Deeks held up his hands to stop Callen's angry retort. "That's not a criticism. I know what we have to do but I'd like a couple of minutes to get my head around what we've just seen."

"Alright. Ten minutes and then we get to work." He watched Deeks and Kensi heading toward the door. "Was I cold, Sam?"

"Maybe. Remember you've had a night to get used to the fact that Red team's gone."

"It doesn't make it any easier."

"I know. Don't worry, Deeks and Kensi'll be back."

Callen's eye's felt heavy-lidded with fatigue. He opened his laptop and scrolled through his emails until he found the last one sent to him by Paris. It was dated three weeks ago and was full of light-hearted nonsense, giving no hint of the dangerous job she was about to undertake. He hadn't responded. Somehow there had never been time.

"We've got an idea."

Deeks' words pierced his pre-occupation. "Go on."

"A film crew."

Callen sat up straighter. "That's not bad. They let journalists in from time to time to do human interest stories and to give the impression they're not hiding anything."

"Damn," Sam said, surprise and admiration mingling in his voice. "That could work. You'll need a military liaison. Kensi can be in front of the camera. She's prettier than you."

"Thanks, Sam! I look good on camera but I guess Kensi'll do." Deeks flashed his partner a grin. "With me operating the camera and Callen producing we could end up winning awards."

"Don't get carried away," Callen warned although his spirits were lifted by the enthusiasm. "What do you think, Kensi?"

"As long as Deeks can point the camera in the right place I can do my part."

"Alright. Sam, you ready to get back into uniform?"

"No problem, G."

"Start working on the details. I'm going to speak to Hetty and Granger. They'll have to arrange for our credentials and to get us an invite. We need to be on our way within the next twenty-four hours."

Tbc

Caroline

August 2013

Note - Camp Stewart doesn't exist but it is modelled upon a real military base in Helmand Province, Afghanistan.


End file.
